


Tongue Tied

by buttcushions



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-12 00:23:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3337604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttcushions/pseuds/buttcushions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Compilation of some baby fics that I've written. Most of them have been for random prompts that I've given myself. Yep. They're pretty rough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one was very mildly inspired with Echosmith - Cool Kids

Had no one known of the circumstances, it would be assumed that Loki wasn’t any different from the crowd with which he shared the space of the Jeep. They were young, they were beautiful, and they were as vibrant as the setting sun. Loki envied them almost as much as he loathed them.

Thor gunned the engine, and his whooping scream was swallowed up whole by the roar of the wind that passed through the open body of the car, setting his hair in blonde tangles. In the passenger seat to his right, Sif threw her head back, laughing. “You’re going to get us killed.”

“We’re going to die eventually,” he quipped in response. The words held no weight-- they couldn’t die. They were immortal, untouchable. Loki marveled at his subtle ignorance, almost jealous of his notion of infallibility. It was worn proudly, inked into his skin like blackwork. The radio contested with the wind, blaring some generic Billboard Top 100 garbage. Despite his disconnection to the other four in the car, Loki felt a pang in his chest, something that demanded to be acknowledged. It thrummed through his veins like bass notes and he wondered perhaps if it was the feeling of reckless youth.

There were cars lit orange by the sunset, scattered about the dulled pavement. They floated along the highway, traversing the white dashes that ticked along the way. Thor peered back at Loki, Fandral and Hogun, smiling devilishly. He jerked the wheel to the right, sending everyone clutching to the uncovered structure of the car.

“You fucker!” Loki laughed over the wind. It had grown cooler over the last few weeks. Sooner or later Thor would have to put the cover on the wrangler for good.  He raised his brows incredulously, “You know none of us are wearing our seat belts?”

Thor shrugged, “I’d save you.”

Loki grinned, “Sure.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is based on Tove Lo -- Stay High

It didn’t feel right. It never had after Loki. The body underneath him was too soft and small, and its voice wasn’t as deep. Thor fucked into her all the same, rolling his hips the way Loki had liked it and gasping lightly the way Loki told him to. It was all involuntary, unintended. He was still a pawn under the control of some higher being, even if that higher being in question was no longer there.

Lo had left him four months ago but still it felt as if his presence was haunting the corners of Thor’s flat, green eyes piercing into mirrors where they hadn’t really looked in months. Thor  had thought to tattoo Loki’s name onto his skin when they were together, ink him into his sleeve. He realized later that he didn’t need to.

Thor didn’t remember the name of the woman that he was fucking-- met her in a club, took her home. He was too drunk, too high, to horny to give a shit. She sighed beneath him and the sound sent a lonely pang through his chest. He leaned down towards her, drawing her chest against his in a vain attempt to fill the ache that had been metastasizing from his heart throughout his body for the past couple of months. It didn’t work. He still felt alone, whored out. He had tried to drink away the feeling, and when that didn’t work he tried to chase it with weed, then xanax.

He hoped silently that Loki would find him throwing away his body like he was. Other days he wished he would overdose so that at least he didn’t have to live without Lo anymore. This wasn’t him, he told himself during the first month after Loki left, it wasn’t his nature to get high and overdrink. Maybe it wasn’t. He didn’t sober up, though. He kept stumbling home from clubs and bars reeking of liquor and sweat and smoke.

The sex was mindless, it always was. He grunted, an animalistic sound and began thrusting his hips with new fervor. When he came, there was a name on his lips and of course it wasn’t the woman’s. She never mattered.

It was certain though that it was his purpose to love Loki and he had lost that privilege some time ago.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to request a prompt, feel free to comment it below (;


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this one was from ineedaprompt.com and was: "A philosopher feeling a little hurt by a knight."

The visitor was a surprise. Loki didn’t receive them very often in his small home that sat outside of the city. The armor was a surprise, as well. The biggest surprise perhaps was what first came out of the young visitor’s mouth.

“Princess, I have come to save you!” he said with an almost laughable gallantry. Brandishing a sword, it was clear that this stranger as in fact, a knight. In the case that Loki was a princess, which he was not, he reckoned that he would be rather happy; the knight was tall and tan, and had a handsome golden head atop his handsome golden shoulders.

Loki choked gracelessly on his watered-down wine. “Pardon?”

There was a pause as the handsome knight sputtered for a moment. “Is there,” the knight began, unsure, “Is there a princess anywhere around here?”

It was a struggle, Loki found, to hold back his laughter and to maintain a straight face but he succeeded nonetheless. “Unless you come bearing my crown, I would say not,” he said, quirking a black brow.

“You don’t look very much like a princess to me,” the knight admitted. The unimpressed look on Loki’s face urged him on. Red crept along his cheeks as he thought futilely of what next to say. “A princess is lovely and fair,” he began, “She sings sweet songs and sews lovely dresses.”

It was an offended thing, the noise Loki next made. “And what is to say that I am not that, that I cannot do that?”

“Well, I merely assumed-” the knight began but was cut off my Loki’s idiotic bitching. He grimaced.

“I can assure you that I am,” Loki paused, “passably good at all that I attempt so I urge you to not go judging me as if I am some shit-shoveling peasant who can’t even spell their own name.”

Thor stood dumbfounded in the open doorway. The sweltering heat of outside rolled lazily in but he could hardly care, instead choosing to stare slack-jawed at the fiery, pale man who sat seated before him.

“Don’t just look at me like that!” Loki insisted.

Confused, the knight squinted at Loki as if to put him in focus. “What are you then?”

“The hell does that mean?”

“I meant no offense,” the knight said laughing. He seemed more assured, as if he had in that moment figured Loki out. “If you are not a princess, what are you then?”

Loki floundered for a moment. “I am a thinker,” he said, though it came out more as a question. He gestured to the parchments on his desk. “I do what I can to understand this world.”

Intrigued, the knight shut the door and stepped forward to investigate the papers. “What do these say?”

“Look for yourself,” Loki said, offering them to him. The ones he handed over describe celestial bodies and how they moved along the cosmos.

The knight took them into his gloved hand and looked them over. A thoughtful look plastered itself over his face, and he nodded.

Loki looked up. “Well, what do you think?”

The knight shrugged, pressing a breath through his teeth. “I cannot read,” he stated bluntly.

“Cannot read?” Loki asked incredulously.

The knight nodded. “I cannot read as in, “I very well could not spell whatever it is that I am saying. Nor could I read it.” By saying “I cannot read,” this is what I mean.”

Loki chuckled at at the strange knight. “Have you ever tried to learn?” he asked.

“No. I spent most of my youth in training,” he explained.

“My good knight, what is your name?”

The knight stood up proudly and raised his brows, “I am Ser Thor of Asgard.”

“Well, Ser Thor--”

“Thor is fine.”

“Well, Thor. If you so wished, I could teach you to read,” Loki said with a soft smile. Too soft for his nature, he thought in hindsight.

The knight Thor, look at him with what Loki could only describe as the purest gratitude and affection. Loki prepared himself for a heartfelt thanks. In that moment, he received his fourth and final surprise as Thor spoke.

“So you haven’t seen a princess around?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a prompt that you'd like to see possibly filled, leave a comment below sha-ha


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First time blah blah blah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer, I wrote this when I was drunk and haven't edited it. I think it adds to the experience

Thor could feel it and he thought to himself how much Loki was likely trying to hid it. Beneath his own palms, he could feel the meat of Loki’s hips trembling. Thor wondered if his flesh did the same. “Don’t let me do anything that you don’t want me to,” he said, kneading Loki’s hips. he relaxed.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Loki said.His usual demeanor was gone. No more sarcasm, no more biting sardonics. Only a voice that wavered as lightly and {somethingly} as his naked limbs. He for a moment regained his composure, “There isn’t anything that I wouldn’t want to do with you.”

Thor rose up, planting a hand behind himself to keep from falling over. The kiss he gave Loki melted away any traces of control that he had. “I hoped as much,” he whispered. Loki’s breath tickled against his lips.

He pressed his lips against Loki’s again and kissed him how he had seen it done in the movies, how he has seen it done in porn. He hadn’t been doing this long enough to truly know {what the fuck he was doing}. He thought lips and tongues would taste sweeter and that kissing would be easier. A learning curve, perhaps. All the same, he moved his lips against Loki’s and reveled in the soft wet sounds it made.

Above him, Loki was pressing out his chest and dragging his open palms along any inch of bare skin that he could find. Thor sighed when the blunt edges of LOki’s nails scraped along his back, along his shoulders. He hoped silently that Loki would mark him up. It only seemed right.

“God,” Thor muttered, and Loki fluttered open his eyes.

“What?” he asked.

“I want you,” Thor said with clipped words. Such phrases felt so foreign on his tongue and while he wished to say them, he didn’t wish to endure their heavy taste. It was like swearing for the first time.

Loki looked down at him, panting lightly. “I’m right here.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Thor said and there was more certainty to his voice.

Loki reached down and kissed a line from his collarbone to the curve of his jaw. “I don’t think you understand,” he whispered, “I’m right here.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on Hallelujah

Loki was beautiful, all long legs and lean muscle. Thor thought if he could commit every inch of his body to memory in that moment, he would never have to worry about forgetting it. Of that he was certain. Seeing him there sitting under the dim moonlight, naked in the large metal wash bin overflowing with tepid water on the building’s roof, Thor was just as certain that Loki was insane. He never questioned it. He only smiled.

“Do you plan to watch me over there all night?” Loki asked from afar. He sunk below the surface, beckoning Thor over. It was silent save the water that sloshed from the bin onto the ground. He reckoned that in another life, Loki would make a proper fit for a siren. There was little doubt in his mind that he would dive headfirst into the ocean if it meant a moment’s rest for his aching heart that he knew beat for Loki. It was something that thrummed in his bones. To know exactly who you were made to love felt neither good nor bad, only comforting. It stopped his heart from wandering, from trying to find home.

Thor shrugged as he walked to the basin, “Maybe,” he said, “Am I allowed to join?” He leaned over the rim, dipping his fingers into the water. It had run almost entirely cold.

“I am afraid there is room enough for just one,” he replied passively. Thor stepped into the tub anyhow, cramped as he stood over Loki. “You’re still in your shoes,” Loki muttered as Thor knelt to kiss at his neck, slipping as he tried to make sense of his stance.

“I am afraid that I don’t care,” he whispered against Loki’s lips. When they kissed, the touch was just as galvanic as it was the first time, and Loki still tasted of cigarettes and tea. They kissed slowly, languorously. As if time was some cruel joke that they both decided to pay no mind to.

Loki hummed softly just as he had the last time they kissed, and the time before that as well. The water sloshed gracelessly over the beveled edge of the bin as Thor slipped even further, falling forward into Loki. "This is bizarre," he muttered with amusement. Loki always amused him. Perhaps it was his singing in the small hours of the morning, his love for his potted plants, how one evening he tied Thor to a chair for no reason at all, but also for every reason in the world. A beautiful, tragic, oddity.

"My love," Loki laughed in return, "We are bizarre, the both of us."

"You should get out of this damned thing," Thor whispered into Loki's neck. He spoke the words as if they were a love note. He mused, "This death trap."

Loki traced his fingers distractedly down Thor's cheek, catching them in his blonde stubble that burned when they kissed, that burned between Loki's thighs. It was a ghost of a smile that graced his lips before he clucked his clever tongue. "That's the point of it, I suppose." Wandering hands  toyed at the collar of Thor's shirt. He explained, "Comfort is useless. It never makes as good a story as suffering."

"Save the suffering for some other people. Let's avoid it always," Thor said with a frantic edge to his voice, "Haven't we both suffered enough?" He spoke with the fear of the other side to Loki's strangeness. The side written like a suicide note, the side with gashes in its wrists, in it hips, the side that screamed and howled into the thin air for all that it was worth. He spoke with the fear of loss.

Loki shook his head. "My love," he said again. This time it was softer, with a heavy longing. "It is the suffering that makes the happiness so sweet."

“Perhaps,” Thor said. He repeated it, trying to speak it into truth, “Perhaps.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any prompts, feel free to comment one. I can't guarantee when I'll get back to it, but hey, whatever.


End file.
